the church poetry reading of B. C.

we attend

the poetry reading in a large

church

in the city.

he's a tall thin man,

balding and twice

divorced,

so we're told,

with many

books

under his belt.

best sellers, which is

impressive

seeing that we live in a world

that no longer

reads poetry, that

notion

quashed easily

by high school teachers

with dusty

tomes

full of language no longer

used.

the ancient mariner and what

not.

but this fellow,

this poet is of the masses.

speaking

and writing in simple

terms of

everyday occurrences.

there is nothing puzzling about

his poems.

he's a clear

clean cold glass of water,

which we warmly welcome

with polite

applause.

he reads

easily a dozen or so,

then meets the crowd across

the street for drinks.

then we all go home.